


not a one-way street

by shamelessly_mkp



Series: Baby Kinksters [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: Dom/sub, Kink: humiliation, M/M, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, baby kinksters are adorable, kink: comeplay, kink: impact!play, kink: pain!play, putting the d/s in bdsm, warning: not entirely safe sane & consensual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-28 15:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shamelessly_mkp/pseuds/shamelessly_mkp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt has a really bad day, and sometimes it's the sub who takes care of the dom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	not a one-way street

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Possibly not entirely SSC (Safe-Sane-and-Consensual) kink behavior, due to Kurt’s state of mind, but definitely RACK (Risk-Aware-Consensual-Kink), at least in my opinion. Kinks included: impact/pain play, light humiliation/affectionate slut-shaming, face-fucking, comeplay, as well as the ever-present D/s of their relationship; allusions made to the 24/7 aspects of their dynamic. Please let me know if you feel there are other things I should warn for or if this warning is not explicit enough! 
> 
> NOTE: I. I think it’s done? There were bits and pieces of things I wanted to add, including a whole conversation at the end between Kurt and Blaine about Kurt’s future career, but I think it would just make the story more awkward and less of a coherent whole. Comments are still much appreciated!
> 
> I’m still sad about not writing kinky gen the way I originally intended, but I’m actually pretty pleased with how this turned out and the porn and all of that (at the moment anyway; I have a history of flip-flopping rapidly between loving and hating my own writing), so. I guess all’s well that ends well and there’s always more fic to write?
> 
> Special thanks to thetimesinbetween and likeasouffle for all their encouragement throughout. <3 <3 <3 You rock!
> 
> Also available in its original draft form at the baby kinksters tumblr, with the finalized version to be uploaded there and at my livejournal in the next few days.

“God _damnit_.”

 

Kurt slammed the door behind him and angrily started stripping off his coat and gloves. He could not believe this. The nerve of that woman - how _dare_ she - he’d been fucking fantastic, anyone could see that, and she’d just dismissed him like he was _nothing_ , just because he was a _guy_ -

 

“Kurt?”

 

Blaine’s voice was tentative and sweet and soft and concerned and did absolutely nothing to calm Kurt down.

 

“It was supposed to be different here. It was supposed to be different,” he growled, throwing his coat on a nearby chair. He really should hang it up, but screw that, he didn’t care. “But no, it’s all the same. Kurt, you can’t sing that; Kurt, you can’t play that; you’re just not what we’re looking for, Kurt; we’re not some avant-garde production, Kurt; why are you so fucking _flamboyant_ , Kurt; why can’t you just sing boy songs, Kurt--”

 

“Oh, Kurt.”

 

Blaine sounded impossibly sad as he stepped forward, hand outstretched to offer comfort.

 

Kurt didn’t take it. Instead he turned away, clenching his fists, trying so hard not to snap at his boyfriend, who was gentle and loving and just wanted to help but he was just so angry and all of him was wound so tight he thought he might just snap and send shrapnel flying and he didn’t know how to make it stop.

 

He felt more than heard Blaine come to a hesitant stop behind him. Kurt didn’t turn around, didn’t want to see the sympathy he knew would be writ large on his boyfriend’s face. After a moment, he heard Blaine sigh and then the retreating steps of his boyfriend fading down the hallway.

 

“Fuck.”

 

Kurt’s knuckles stung, and with a start he realized he’d punched the wall, who was he, Finn? and then Blaine was there again and Kurt found himself being ushered across the room and gently but firmly pushed into sitting down as Blaine examined his hand.

 

“There are two things you should never hit with a closed fist, Kurt.”

 

Kurt snorted. He couldn’t help it. “A wall being one, I take it? What’s the other?”

 

“A man’s face,” Blaine said absently, manipulating Kurt’s fingers one by one, which, ouch. Wait. What?

 

Blaine must have sensed his confusion, as he went on to elaborate: “You’re as likely to break your hand as you are to do anything else.” He let go of Kurt’s hand. “You’re okay, though. Just bruised. And your knuckles are going to sting for a few days - you hit the wall pretty hard.”

 

Kurt was still angry, so angry - practically thrumming with it - but his hand hurt and Blaine, who’d stepped away for a minute, was now back and kneeling at his feet and gently applying antiseptic to Kurt’s split knuckles, blowing on it to help it dry before starting to wrap Kurt’s hand in an ace bandage.

 

“You’ll want to leave the bandage off tonight, let it get some fresh air,” Blaine said quietly, not looking up from his self-appointed task, “But for right now it’s better to keep it wrapped, keep dirt from getting in. An infection isn’t likely, but just in case.”

 

“You’ve done this before,” Kurt observed as dryly as he could with his body still tense from adrenaline and at the back of his mind a helpless repetitious echo of hurt-shame-anger.

 

“Boxing,” his boyfriend reminded, raising Kurt’s now bandaged hand to his lips for a gentle kiss before setting it back down on Kurt’s lap. “What can I do, Kurt?” Blaine asked, looking up at him worriedly, and Kurt heard all the other questions he wasn’t asking as well: How do I fix this, how do I make it better, what do you _need_ -

 

“You can’t do anything.” Kurt closed his eyes, tried to stem the electric hum buzzing through him. “I don’t know,” he revised his answer. “I just need- I don’t know what I need. I’m sorry. You probably should stay away from me for a bit. I can’t - I’m not going to be good company right now.”

 

Blaine was silent and still, but his hands were warm on Kurt’s and Kurt could feel the press of Blaine’s forehead against his knee. When Blaine spoke, the exhaled air left a brief moist heat that quickly faded. “May I make you some warm milk?”

 

His voice was soft and diffident, and something about the way he’d requested, not suggested, he make Kurt his favorite comfort drink let some of the frenetic energy possessing Kurt drain away. “Please.”

 

When Blaine returned with a steaming mug, he strangely didn’t hand it to Kurt right away, instead carefully balancing it as he sank down to his knees before offering it up, eyes downcast.

 

Kurt slowly took the mug from him. He wasn’t quite sure what Blaine was doing - and now he had his hands resting on his thighs, palm up, just the way Kurt liked - but couldn’t deny the fact that every submissive act was little by little soothing away his inner turmoil. Not getting rid of the anger, no, nor the hurt, nor the stinging memory of the sheer humiliation of giving his all and being laughed at; but the sickening violence of the emotions was easing, fading away into calmer, more familiar pains.

 

“May I put away your things?” Blaine spoke up again, still soft and diffident and submissive.

 

“You may,” Kurt said, slowly and deliberately taking his first sip of the warm drink, consciously trying to calm himself further.

 

Kurt was nearly finished with his milk when Blaine returned, and much more settled (though every so often a surge of rage would reappear). Blaine knelt at his feet again, but this time his hands were uplifted in offering.

 

Kurt swallowed hard, almost choking at the sight of the cane resting on Blaine’s palms. He quickly set the mug down, discarding the remnants of his drink as unimportant. “Blaine, what-” Did Blaine seriously want to play? Right _then_?

 

“Please, Sir.”

 

Blaine’s voice was as soft and submissive as it had been before, but now it held an aching note of appeal.

 

“Honey, I don’t think now’s a good time.” _Understatement._ Kurt could not for the life of him understand why Blaine would be asking for this now, of all times. He’d been clearly trying so hard to make things better for Kurt, clearly understood how hard a time Kurt was having, so why would he be asking now? It couldn’t be selfishness - Kurt sometimes wished Blaine would be more selfish - but why Blaine would possibly think that Kurt was in a playing mood was beyond him. He was calmer now, yes, but still angry and tense and if earlier he’d felt like he might just explode out of his own skin, now he felt like he needed to run, dance, do something to keep himself there. So why--

 

Oh.

 

“Please, Sir,” Blaine said again, pleadingly.

 

“No,” Kurt said, shaking his head. “No way. Blaine, I can’t hit you when I’m angry. That’s abuse.”

 

“Not like this,” Blaine said firmly, finally looking up and locking eyes with Kurt but never moving from his submissive posture. “You need this.”

 

“I could hurt you.”

 

“No,” Blaine said. “You couldn’t.”

 

The certainty in those words made the breath catch in Kurt’s throat. Even now, after all this time, sometimes he just looked at Blaine and marveled that this beautiful, amazing, strong man was his, all his, that he would give Kurt everything he was without even the flicker of an eyelash -

 

“Please, Kurt.” Blaine never used Kurt’s name during a scene, not anymore, not since Kurt had had him tied down and on the verge of tears and _Please, Sir_ had come out of Blaine’s mouth like they’d been ripped from his very soul. _Sir_ meant Blaine was his, wholly and completely, his to own, to command, to care for.

 

 _Kurt_ meant they were equals. _Kurt_ meant that this was Blaine, his boyfriend, asking for Kurt to beat him, offering up his body as a stage for Kurt to sing out his heart on, not Blaine, his beautiful, perfect, perfect sub asking his dominant to hurt him because that’s what he thought a good sub should do.

 

 _Kurt_ meant that Blaine knew Kurt wasn’t quite Sir at the moment, that he couldn’t be, and that he was offering this anyway.

 

 _Kurt_ meant he could say yes.

 

He reached out to brush an affectionate knuckle against Blaine’s cheek. How had he ever gotten this lucky?

 

“Strip.”

 

Kurt didn’t offer to take the cane, and Blaine didn’t bother asking, instead delicately gripping the wood between his teeth as he unbuttoned his shirt and awkwardly shimmied out of his pants. He never left his knees, and Kurt couldn’t help but guiltily enjoy the way Blaine’s struggle to keep his balance, struggle to obey, to be _good_ made his cock ache with wanting to make his boyfriend struggle in all other sorts of ways, to see just how much that beautiful boy could take--

 

Kurt closed his eyes and took a deep, deliberate breath, letting himself sink into the familiar (so, so familiar) clarity of mind that came from the heady rush of power that was Blaine submitting to him.

 

“Bedroom. Standing, over the end of the bed. Hands behind your back.” He heard the rustle of Blaine beginning to move. “And don’t you dare get off your knees until you get there.”

 

There was a pause, and Kurt knew without opening his eyes that Blaine had had to take a second to collect himself. He knew exactly what it did to him, staying on his knees like that, and moreover, Kurt knew exactly what Kurt’s orders to stay on his knees did to him.

 

Especially when Kurt didn’t even bother watching to see if he was being obeyed.

 

Kurt waited a while, idly naming every musical Julie Andrews had ever been in. Finally he judged that enough time had passed for Blaine to not only have gotten into position but to have gotten to that squirm-inducing level of anticipation and rose from his seat.

 

He paused in the doorway to the bedroom, allowing himself to savor the long lines of Blaine’s legs, the strong muscle of his thighs, the graceful curve of his back. His chest was flat on the bed, just as Kurt had wanted, hands clasped behind his back and head turned to the side just slightly so that he could breathe.

 

The cane was on the bed directly in front of him, as much on display as Blaine was himself, that beautiful, beautiful boy, always so trusting and obedient. He’d laid himself out for Kurt like an offering, like the precious treasure he was, and it was perfect, exactly what Kurt had wanted.

 

Blaine always did seem to understand Kurt’s artistic vision. Although -

 

Kurt moved forward to run a possessive hand down his boyfriend’s back. The sickening fury from earlier was a distant thing now, replaced with a sharp clarity of purpose. “Very well done,” he complimented. (Kurt believed in positive reinforcement of behavior.) “However,” he added as his hand ran into Blaine’s crossed wrists, “I do believe one adjustment is in order.”

 

He pulled Blaine’s arms further back, wrists pressed to opposing elbows. “Can you hold this position?” Kurt knew very well Blaine could, at least during the normal course of things, but he’d never tried having Blaine in this position during a caning before. Not that they used the cane very often, anyway - Blaine didn’t particularly like the sting of it or the narrowness of the strikes. Kurt loved it, on the other hand - the skill it required, the technique; loved the _precision_ of it all and the brilliantly defined stripes it left behind.

 

It made Blaine’s offer all the sweeter, knowing it was entirely for Kurt’s pleasure.

 

There was a long pause before Blaine replied. “I - I think so?” His voice was hesitant, and Kurt frowned. As much as he liked making Blaine struggle to hold position, he didn’t want to set him up for failure.

 

“Yes or no, Blaine?”

 

Another pause. “Yes,” Blaine said more firmly. “But -” his voice trailed off.

 

“But?” Kurt prompted.

 

Blaine shook his head, rubbing his face against the duvet. “Never mind. It’s not important,” he mumbled, only to yelp a moment later as Kurt forced his arms even further up behind him.

 

“But?” Kurt asked again, voice scrupulously level. He kept up the pressure on Blaine’s wrists, not letting him twist out of the painful hold. He’d learned long ago not to raise his voice if at all possible, to keep as calm a demeanor as he possibly could when discipling Blaine. It generally led to one of two things - either Blaine would react with anger himself, and it’d spiral into a nasty fight, or Blaine would retreat so far into himself and into feelings of shame and inadequacy that it would take hours for Kurt to coax him out again.

 

Neither were constructive.

 

Reprimanding Blaine was one thing. Berating him was another, and one Kurt tried to avoid - tricky at times, given his temper.

 

Kurt waited another moment, giving Blaine a chance to respond, but Blaine was silent.

 

Kurt pushed his arms up just the slightest bit higher, causing Blaine to let out another sharp cry of pain. “I can keep doing this all night,” Kurt said calmly.

 

“Okay, okay!” Blaine’s voice was high and frantic. “I’m sorry, I’ll tell you.”

 

Kurt released Blaine’s wrists, letting him relax into a more natural position. “So. ‘But’?”

 

Blaine’s answer, when it came, was quiet and shamefacedly delivered. He could hold the position without help, he knew he could, but if Kurt could - if he didn’t mind, because this wasn’t about Blaine, this was for Kurt and really it wasn’t that important anyway -

 

Blaine’s voice was speeding up, getting higher and more anxious as he kept talking, never quite getting to the point, and although Kurt was fairly sure at this point what it was Blaine was trying to ask for, he kept silent, not letting Blaine out of his misery. Blaine knew the rules. If he wanted something, he asked for it.

 

Kurt did, however, deliver a quick swat to the back of Blaine’s thighs. The sting made Blaine stop sharply mid-stammer to hiss in a quick breath of pain. “The point, beautiful.”

 

He saw Blaine pause to take a deep, calming breath, and allowed it. Blaine could so easily spin himself up about things, but they’d been working on strategies for him to better control it, and the deep breathing was (so far) one of the most effective ones.

 

“I would like it if my arms were bound, Sir.”

 

Kurt couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. He was proud of Blaine for managing to tell him what he wanted despite his obvious nerves, but it was ridiculously entertaining that Blaine had somehow thought this a difficult request to ask. “Don’t you always?”

 

Blaine’s face flushed a little, and Kurt felt almost ashamed at how much these sorts of small humiliations turned him on.

 

Almost.

 

It was a heady feeling, knowing that he’d caused that sickening rush of heat to run through Blaine’s body, that he was the only one Blaine trusted with these terrifyingly naked vulnerabilities.

 

He grazed a possessive fingernail down Blaine’s naked neck, just to watch him shiver. “I know what a slut you are for bondage, beautiful. You can’t even help yourself, can you?”

 

“No, Sir,” Blaine agreed in a shaky voice.

 

“Quiet,” Kurt ordered. He let himself continue to trace idle patterns across Blaine’s back, scratching so lightly it would be an aching tease. He could feel Blaine’s muscles tensing and releasing as he tried to stay still, to not make a sound, and it made his fingers itch with the urge to touch Blaine other places as well, to make him shake with need and cry those beautiful tears as he tried so hard to stay obedient, to be _good_ -

 

But that would come later.

 

Blaine wanted his hands tied. That was easy enough, and understandable. Blaine always wanted to be tied.

 

The rope he’d need was only a few steps away in their toy chest.

 

Kurt didn’t want to get it. All of a sudden, he had an overwhelming cruel urge to deny Blaine this simple request, simply because he could, simply because it pleased him.

 

It was a dark, cruel desire and it made Kurt’s breath catch on a moan because Blaine would be so beautiful like that, desperate and suffering and taking it because it was what Kurt had chosen to give him-

 

Kurt wanted that, all of that. But - he snaked a hand down to tug Blaine’s curls sharply. “This a want or a need, beautiful?”

 

Kurt would always give Blaine what he needed. Always. What he _wanted_ , on the other hand …

 

That Kurt could use his discretion about.

 

Blaine’s breath hitched, and Kurt fancied he could hear a note of despair in the choked sound.

 

“Want, Sir.”

 

His voice was thick with unshed tears already, though they’d hardly even started, and Kurt wanted to hear it breaking, wanted to make those tears fall and breaths turn to sobs, hungered for it in the way he hungered for applause on the stage, as something his due.

 

Kurt hummed in satisfaction at the answer - he’d thought so, but now he knew, now he _could_ \- and leaned down, putting his mouth next to Blaine’s ear.

 

“No.”

 

Blaine let out a long shuddering breath and nodded into the mattress, mutely accepting whatever Kurt decided to give him. Such a good boy.

 

Kurt rewarded him with a biting kiss to the ear before pulling away, sliding a firmly possessive hand down his boyfriend’s back as he did so. Reaching Blaine’s locked arms, Kurt lifted up for just a moment before pressing down, harder now, forcing Blaine’s forearms to press painfully into the small of his back, his shoulders to strain, arms to ache. Blaine moaned - a sharp, desperate sound - and Kurt held him like that for several long moments, waiting for it -

 

The tension in his boyfriend’s body released all at once, and Kurt let his grip ease, satisfaction humming through him. Blaine’s submission was always beautiful, always a gift, and Kurt loved how easily he fell into it, how most days he seemed on the verge of dropping to his knees from just a look.

 

There was undeniably something special, however, about the times Blaine made him work for it, something about the feel of his boyfriend struggling against him, just because he wanted Kurt to win - and how beautifully complete and utter his submission was when Kurt proved he always would.

 

As Kurt stripped off his shirt in preparation (caning was hard work), a thought occurred to him.

 

“You little minx,” he said in wonder, pausing in folding his shirt. “You did that on purpose, didn’t you?”

 

Blaine didn’t say anything, but his pleased hum was answer enough. He totally _had_ done that on purpose, fought Kurt just to give Kurt the pleasure of forcing him down.

 

Kurt shook his head, laughing to himself a little. “You are a wonder, you know that, honey?”

 

Blaine wiggled a little on the bed, and Kurt could see him trying to hide a proud little grin.

 

“Sweet as it is that you’d do that for me, beautiful, I know you know how I feel about manipulation.” Kurt tried to make his voice hard, but knew he wasn’t quite succeeding. He couldn’t help it - his boyfriend was such a wonderfully sweet boy, always trying so hard to give Kurt everything he possibly could.

 

Blaine hummed again in response. “We’ll talk about that later.” Kurt brushed a kiss against the top of his head as he leaned over Blaine’s body to reach the cane. “Safesignal, beautiful?”

 

Blaine obediently stamped his foot twice.

 

“Good.”

 

Kurt took a few practice swings with the cane, feeling a dark rush of adrenaline at the sharp sound of it cutting through the air.

 

Blaine could hear it, too, and his involuntary shudders of anticipation were just as tantalizing.

 

That casting director, and all those other directors, what would they think of him now? Would they still think him too girly, too flamboyant, too _weak_ to play a leading role?

 

At that moment, Kurt didn’t even care. As if the opinion of those plebeians meant anything. Let them have their Broadway shows, their superior grins. They would never have this.

 

“I’m going to cane you now, beautiful.” Kurt’s voice echoed in his own ears, shockingly calm in comparison to the pulsing heartbeat thrumming through him. “It’s going to hurt, and you’re going to want me to stop. You’re going to scream and cry and beg me. And it won’t matter.

 

“I’m going to keep going until I’m done or until you safeword out. I’m going to hurt you as much as I like, for as long as I like, and you’re going to stay still and take it. Understand?”

 

Blaine’s whimper was muffled by the bedsheets he was nodding into, but Kurt could hear it all the same.

 

“Words, beautiful,” he commanded harshly, grabbing Blaine by the hair and pulling his head back sharply, cruelly. “I want to hear you say it.”

 

Blaine’s throat worked silently for a moment, trying to speak despite the unnatural position Kurt had forced him into.

 

“You’re going to cane me, and it’s going to hurt.”

 

His voice was quiet and shaky, but the tone was sure.

 

“It’s going to hurt, and I’m going to scream and cry and beg you to stop, and it won’t matter. You’re going to hurt me as much as you like, for as long as you like, and I’m going to stay still and take it.”

 

“Tell me why.”

 

Blaine’s reply came without hesitation.

 

“Because I’m yours, Sir, and it pleases you.”

 

“Damn right you are,” Kurt agreed, letting Blaine’s head drop to the mattress again. His voice softened. “My good boy.”

 

He ran a gently possessive hand down Blaine’s back, soothing him as he might a skittish animal, waiting for the impatient tension in Blaine’s muscles to relax away.

 

It did - and Kurt immediately pressed down firmly on the small of Blaine’s back as he brought the cane down lightning fast for the first strike, the sting of it shockingly loud in the quiet room.

 

Blaine gasped, but didn’t move, and Kurt felt a rush of pride. Such a good boy, so obedient.

 

Kurt planned to push that obedience to its very limit.

 

_Swish-CRACK!_

 

This stroke, laid down precisely atop the first, elicited a sharp whimper, and the third slow, deliberate strike caused a high-pitched yelp to escape his boyfriend’s mouth. Blaine stayed still, however, though Kurt could feel him start to tremble from the effort.

 

_Good._

 

Kurt adjusted his grip on the cane slightly before continuing, this time faster, never hitting the same spot twice. He brought down the cane again and again, not giving his boyfriend even a chance to breathe between strokes.

 

He could see the marks now, the bright white of impact darkening into sharply delineated lines of rosy pink, the first mark a stark red centered within the rest. Blaine was shaking now, but still managing to hold position, despite the sweat pooling in the small of his back and the now near-constant keen of pain.

 

He was trying so hard. Kurt almost felt sorry for him, but he’d asked for this, and Kurt was going to give it to him.

 

God, was he going to give it to him.

 

Kurt let the hurried flurry of strokes slow into lazily sharp flicks of his wrist, drifting further down now. He hadn’t marked Blaine’s thighs yet, and the thought of that golden skin also covered in bright stripes of vivid proof of Kurt’s possession was compelling.

 

He was careful - he didn’t want to hit Blaine’s balls by mistake - but he could feel Blaine’s breath catch in instinctual panic every time the cane got close, and the little cries Blaine was trying so hard to bite back were as beautiful as always, as much a masterpiece as the best of Blaine’s solos, the zip of the cane as perfect accompaniment, but it wasn’t enough. Not today.

 

Kurt didn’t want to just watch Blaine struggle. He wanted to watch him _break_ , and God, that was cruel of him, cruel and terrible, but it was what he wanted because Blaine was his and would break so beautifully for him, so _willingly_ —

 

Kurt’s own breaths were sharp and stuttering now, and he paused mid-swing to take several deep and deliberate ones, breathing from the diaphragm as if he were on stage about to perform. He needed to be fully in control for this.

 

As Kurt forcibly relaxed his own body, he could feel the tension in Blaine’s back fade away as several long minutes passed, could hear Blaine’s hitched breaths come under something resembling control. _Perfect._ Kurt took another deep breath and took careful aim.

 

_zip-crack zip-crack zip-CRACK!_

 

Lightning fast, Kurt laid down two sharp lines across the gentle dip where ass and thigh met. The third strike, just as fast, came down directly on the softly vulnerable balls peeking out between Blaine’s legs, and Blaine was suddenly choking on the end of a gasp, turning it into a scream as he twisted wildly under Kurt’s restraining hand, automatically trying to somehow shield himself from any further pain, and there was a darkly satisfying roar in Kurt’s ears because yes, this was what he had wanted, what he had needed.

 

He roughly rolled his boyfriend onto his back, ignoring the discomfort Blaine’s still clasped arms would cause. Blaine’s face was streaked with tears and he was shaking, violent trembles running through his body. Kurt tossed the cane off to the side gently, uncaring where it went so long as it stayed on the bed where he could reach it easily, and straddled his disobedient boyfriend, holding him down by the throat.

 

He was careful to not rest his full weight on Blaine’s abdomen, and only pressed down enough on Blaine’s throat for him to really feel it, not enough to actually impede his breathing. “What did I say, beautiful?”

 

Blaine’s face was non-comprehending for a minute - Kurt could actually see the second it clicked - and then he was trying to shake his head, little whimpers falling from his lips helplessly, as if denying the memory of Kurt’s words would change them somehow. Kurt gave a warning squeeze to Blaine’s throat.

 

“What did I say, beautiful?” He repeated, silkily soft. Kurt loosened his grip on Blaine’s throat and reached up with his other hand to rub an affectionate thumb against Blaine’s cheek. “What did I say were the rules?”

 

Blaine made a despairing sound, closing his eyes and trying to turn away - a futile venture with Kurt’s hands already on his face, holding him implacably still.

 

“What were those rules, beautiful? Huh?” Kurt’s voice was soft now, gentle and kind. “Come on, beautiful. You know the answer, don’t you?”

 

Blaine shook under him but stayed silent.

 

Kurt’s left snaked up from where it was caressing the side of Blaine’s face to sharply entangle itself in Blaine’s hair and pull. “I want an answer, beautiful.”

 

His boyfriend let out a hitched sob, but still didn’t answer, trying again to shake his head in denial. Kurt pursed his lips disapprovingly, and then tightened his grip on Blaine’s hair as he gave a sharp little slap to Blaine’s face, making Blaine cry out. “I _said_ I want an answer.”

 

“S’posed to stay still, Sir,” Blaine managed to choke out.

 

“That’s right,” Kurt said, gentling his grip and petting at Blaine’s throat soothingly. “You said you were going to be a good boy for me, didn’t you?”

 

Blaine gave a minute nod, a sob escaping his throat.

 

Kurt leaned in again, almost purring in satisfaction. “I don’t think you were a very good boy, were you.” He didn’t wait for a reply. “And what happens when you break the rules, beautiful?”

 

“Get punished, Sir.”

 

Blaine’s voice was absolutely wrecked, like Kurt had been fucking his throat for hours instead of laying down stripe after fiery strip of pain on his ass and thighs, and Kurt’s cock stirred in interest, but he ignored it. The high he was riding now was as intense as any orgasm, and he wasn’t done yet.

 

“That’s right,” Kurt agreed, sliding back off the bed and picking up the cane again. He whipped it through the air above Blaine lazily, practicing the necessary flick of the wrist. “Four, I think,” he said with some thought, gently trailing the tip of the cane down Blaine’s body, enjoying the shiver it evoked. “Yes, four should do nicely.” Done teasing, Kurt pressed a preemptively restraining arm across Blaine’s hips, holding him firmly in place. “One. For moving. Two. For not answering my question. Three. For not answering me _again_. And four, for making me ask three times when you should have answered after one. I think that’s fair, don’t you?”

 

The question was rhetorical this time, but unsurprisingly Blaine nodded frantically in response anyway, clearly not willing to risk further punishment.

 

Kurt gave a cheshire grin of anticipation, then struck without warning - four harshly abrupt strikes directly to Blaine’s soft cock and balls.

 

The sound Blaine made was more animal than human, a sharply high-pitched keen of pain that turned to hysterically hiccuping sobs.

 

Kurt flipped his boyfriend back onto his stomach, listening intently for a safeword, but it never came, so Kurt left a heavily restraining hand on the small of Blaine’s back and went back to methodically turning his boyfriend’s skin to a feverish pink shot through with red, laying down stripe after stripe as Blaine shook and sobbed underneath his hold but never moved. It was beautiful and perverse and absolutely perfect and Kurt was so fucking turned on he could see spots floating in the edge of his vision as he laid down three last perfectly biting strokes, one on top of the other, ensuring yet another beautiful dark bruise to linger on Blaine’s skin like a tangible sign of Kurt’s possession, marking him in blood and tears and his utter willingness to give this to Kurt, to give everything to Kurt.

 

He dropped the cane, hurriedly unzipping his pants and pulling out his cock, groaning as he did so. God, he was so hard, and Blaine was still there, unmoving, absolute in his determination to not break position again, but that wasn’t what Kurt wanted anymore. He tugged at Blaine’s clasped arms, bringing him crashing to his knees before manhandling his boyfriend around to face him, crowding Blaine back against the bed, towering over him and grabbing his hair with one desperate hand as he guided his flushed and aching erection into Blaine’s open mouth with the other.

 

Blaine choked, more tears springing to his eyes, but Kurt just adjusted his grip to hold his boyfriend more firmly in place. “Swallow,” he ordered sharply, rubbing an insistent thumb down the length of Blaine’s neck.

 

Blaine obediently tried to swallow as Kurt shoved even further forward, forcing the head of his cock past the fluttering entrance to Blaine’s throat but kept choking on it despite his best efforts, gagging and trying to pull away despite Kurt’s restraining hand.

 

Kurt ignored it and just fucked forward again and again, enjoying the way Blaine’s throat convulsed around him as he gagged, pausing at the deepest point for longer and longer each time, making Blaine wait longer and longer for the chance for breath.

 

He would pull back, leaving only the head in his boyfriend’s mouth, letting him gasp around it and enjoying the brief worshipful caress of Blaine’s tongue against the underside before fucking back into Blaine’s throat, making him choke on it again and again. He could fucking hear it, the wet _gluck-gluck_ of protest from Blaine’s throat, even under the louder noise of Blaine’s gagging and hungry little whimpers. He didn’t bother worrying about whether or not his boyfriend could take it. Blaine would tap out if he had to.

 

The pace was fast and frantic, and Blaine’s mouth - his _throat_ , God - was so hot and wet, so gorgeously, gorgeously soft and yielding around him that it seemed like no time at all before he was on the absolute edge and he could just keep fucking Blaine’s sinfully perfect mouth, he could, come in his boyfriend’s mouth and watch him swallow it all down, guzzle it like it was his very lifeblood, and yet he didn’t want to, not this time. No, today - today he wanted to see that beautiful face already desperate and wrecked from tears covered in his come, marked with sticky white as his, his perfect boy, his sub, his slut, his beautiful beautiful _Blaine_.

 

“Keep your mouth open,” Kurt managed to get out between gritted teeth as he pulled back out of the addictive warmth of Blaine’s mouth, one hand immediately going to his cock, jacking it furiously. “Eyes shut,” he added with a groan, hand tightening in Blaine’s curls, forcing his head back. He was so fucking close…

 

Blaine obeyed, of course he did, like the good boy he was, shutting his eyes and opening his mouth wide, but then he took it a step further and stuck his fucking tongue out, laying it out like a landing strip and that was what tipped Kurt over the edge, that soft pink tongue peeking out of his boyfriend’s mouth, silently begging for his dom’s come.

 

Kurt came so hard he almost blacked out, grip tightening on his boyfriend’s hair as he used him to steady himself. His grip had just loosened in response to his regained balance when his vision cleared and all of a sudden his knees were weak again because jesus fucking _christ_ , Blaine was looking up at him with those huge brown eyes and a tear-stained face streaked with come, mouth open to display a puddle of it on his tongue, offering it up in worshipful tribute.

 

Kurt gave up on staying on his feet and let himself crash down onto his knees, cradling Blaine’s face with his hands. “Don’t swallow,” he ordered hoarsely. “You hear me? Don’t you fucking swallow. I want you just like this.”

 

Kurt let one of his hands slip down to apply quietly threatening pressure to Blaine’s throat at the protesting whimper his new orders elicited. “I know, I know,” he said soothingly, relaxing his grip and smoothing a gentle thumb over Blaine’s cheekbone, smearing sticky white. “That’s hard for you, being such a comeslut. But this isn’t for you, is it?”

 

Kurt smiled in approval at Blaine’s careful shake of his head. “You’ve been so good for me today. You’re going to keep being good for me, aren’t you, beautiful?”

 

Blaine’s nod was deliciously awkward, jaw dropped and tongue out. Kurt couldn’t help himself; he leaned forward to take a tiny kitten lick of his own come from Blaine’s pretty pink tongue.

 

Blaine jerked a little in surprise but otherwise managed to stay still (and more importantly, kept his mouth open and full of Kurt’s come), making Kurt hum approvingly. “Good boy.” He brushed a stray sweaty curl back from Blaine’s forehead, studying Blaine’s face intently, trying to fix it in his memory for good.

 

“Such a good boy,” he repeated, this time a quiet murmur. “Always so good for me.”

 

Kurt allowed his gaze to linger for another long minute or so, fingertips tracing gently over his boyfriend’s features, wrecked and exhausted and covered in drying come and tears. Blaine’s eyes fluttered shut and he pressed ever so slightly up into Kurt’s touch, silently asking for more, and Kurt indulged him, let him take the comfort he needed. He’d pushed Blaine hard today, practically broken him.

 

Now it was time to put him back together.

 

That beautifully obedient mouth was still open, and Kurt couldn’t resist it anymore, pulling Blaine forward to lick around the edges of his mouth, tasting the salty bitterness of his own come and Blaine’s tears before brushing a teasing open mouthed kiss against Blaine’s lips. “You can swallow now, beautiful,” Kurt breathed into his boyfriend's mouth. "You've been so good, I think you've earned it." He absently kissed the side of Blaine’s mouth, more interested in tracing the progression of Blaine’s hungry swallow down his throat, feeling the muscles flex and move against the gentle pressure of his hand. “There you go,” he murmured soothingly. “That’s what you wanted, wasn't it?”

 

Blaine made a quiet little sound of desperate agreement, slumping forward to rest against Kurt’s shoulder.

 

“Yeah,” Kurt crooned in his ear. “That’s all my comeslut needed. That’s my good boy.”

 

Kurt rubbed gently down Blaine’s arms, encouraging cramped hands to unclench from their grip and helping Blaine move his arms back into a more natural position, accompanying the soothing touch of his hands with a quiet litany of praise as Blaine melted against him, whimpering sharp little cries whenever the movements caused the residual pain of the caning to spike.

 

Kurt used the opportunity to admire his handiwork, if from an awkward upside down angle. The result was stunning, if he said so himself - an overall rosy color punctuated with lividly clear dark stripes from individual strokes. He hadn’t broken the skin or anything; he’d been too careful for that; but the bruises were deep. Blaine was going to be feeling this for quite some time to come. (Kurt couldn’t help the frisson of pleasure he got thinking of Blaine, a week from now, ass and thighs still covered in dark marks, stinging sharply whenever he sat or stood, never letting him forget for one instant who he belonged to.)

 

His concentration was broken by Blaine starting to shiver.

 

Kurt pulled Blaine back from where he was resting the majority of his weight on Kurt, eliciting a whine of protest. Blaine’s eyes opened to look at Kurt accusingly.

 

“Hush, honey. You’re fine. I’m right here.” Blaine’s huff of frustration and subsequent pout were soothed away with a chaste kiss. “We’re just going to move to the bed now, okay?”

 

Blaine looked understandably skeptical about the idea of moving in any way shape or form.

 

“You just stay here for a minute, honey. I’ll be right back.”

 

A brief look of panic flashed across Blaine’s face as Kurt started to rise to his feet, and Kurt quickly crouched back down, rubbing his arm soothingly. “It’s okay, beautiful. I’m not leaving. I’m going to go to the dresser right over there and get you some water and some of the bruise cream - and you were such a smart boy, setting all of that out for us beforehand - and then we can cuddle up under the covers, all nice and warm. Won’t that be nice?”

 

It took a moment, but then Blaine nodded, biting his lip and curling in on himself but not protesting as Kurt stood up again, although he didn’t take his eyes off Kurt for a moment, as though he thought Kurt might vanish if Blaine wasn’t there to see him.

 

Kurt brought the supplies Blaine’d laid out for them over to the bed, flipping back the covers to reveal the fresh clean sheets before he bent to the task of getting Blaine up off the floor and into the bed.

 

Blaine tried to help, bless his heart, but his coordination was completely shot and in the end it was easier for Kurt to just scoop him up than to have Blaine try to stand long enough to climb into bed. He started to help Blaine lie face-down, but that attempt was arrested pretty quickly as Blaine’s bruised genitals brushed against the mattress making him cry out in pain.

 

Kurt had not thought about that when he’d decided on the spur of the moment that that was what Blaine’s punishment would be. Whoops. (He determinedly pushed away the little intrigued voice in the back of his head that was suggesting all of the interesting things he could do with Blaine this sensitive and marked up. It was really not the time.)

 

Having Blaine lay on his back obviously wasn’t an option, and even having him lay on his side was bound to be pretty painful. Kurt thought a moment, then maneuvered Blaine into a bastardized version of downward dog, tucking pillows under his belly and his upper thighs to help him keep his hips up off the bed. It wasn’t perfect, but it would work for now. He gently applied the topical cream to the angry red of Blaine’s ass and thighs, wiping his hand carelessly on his pants when he was done before shimmying out of them and getting into bed with his boyfriend, curling up next to him and covering them both with the blankets.

 

Blaine tensed up with a protesting whimper of pain as the weight of the blankets aggravated his bruises, but adjusted after a moment or so, even snuggling into their softness and tucking it in closer around him, making a pleased humming sound as he did so.

 

Kurt carefully bit back a laugh, still a little buzzed from the scene. Blaine was adorable when he was in subspace.

 

Well. His boyfriend was adorable pretty much all the time, actually. But especially so when he was in subspace.

 

Kurt propped himself on an elbow, drinking in the sight. He’d been a little worried Blaine wouldn’t go under - sometimes he didn’t, if bondage wasn’t involved - but it seemed like the restraining hand had been enough. Not that that had been the point of the scene, really, but Kurt wouldn’t have been able to take it so far otherwise, and he honestly wasn’t sure that anything less intense would have been enough.

 

Didn’t matter, though. He’d gotten what he’d needed.

 

“You really are a wonder,” Kurt said quietly, echoing earlier words. Gorgeous long eyelashes fluttered as his boyfriend blinked sleepily at him in response. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

 

Blaine’s brow wrinkled, and he shook his head a little in response. “M’lucky.” And wasn’t that just like Blaine?

 

Kurt couldn’t help but laugh a little, reaching out to play with Blaine’s curls again. “Well, maybe we both are.”

 

Blaine considered that for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

 

Kurt shook his head in disbelief. “How is it that you always know what I need better than I do?”

 

The question was rhetorical, but Blaine shrugged a little in answer all the same, nuzzling up into Kurt’s touch like a cat asking to be petted. “Love you.”

 

The words were barely more than a rasp of air, but Blaine still somehow managed to convey how absolutely ridiculous he found the question, like it was absurd that Kurt could think there was any other answer, and Kurt felt a warm rush of affection run through him. “I love you too, you sweet, sweet boy.” Kurt scratched gently down the back of Blaine’s scalp, smiling helplessly before leaning forward to brush a grateful kiss against Blaine’s forehead. “Thank you.”

 

Blaine’s lips twitched into a tired smile. “’Welcome.” The smile turned to a pout.

 

“What’s all this about?” Kurt thumbed gently at the thrust-out bottom lip.

 

“Want a real kiss.”

 

“Oh, do you?” Kurt couldn’t help but tease.

 

Blaine nodded, face petulant. “I was good.”

 

His voice raised a little in question, and Kurt didn’t have the heart to tease him further, leaning forward to kiss him. “You were,” he assured his boyfriend, pressing chaste little kisses to the side of his mouth, the line of his jaw. “So, so good.”

 

Blaine made another quietly plaintive sound, and Kurt abandoned his trail of kisses to retake gentle possession of Blaine’s mouth, slipping his own soft tongue past the seam of Blaine’s lips to lick soothingly at the roof of his mouth before reluctantly drawing back. Blaine chased after him, clearly not willing to relinquish his well-earned kisses, but Kurt stopped him. “Not now, honey.”

 

Blaine pouted again, making Kurt’s lips twitch in affectionate amusement. “If I could kiss you forever, I would, you beautiful boy, but right now I need you to drink some water.”

 

Kurt twisted around awkwardly to retrieve the water bottle Blaine’d provided, complete with taped crazy straw, which made Kurt both want to kiss him in praise for his forethought and laugh at his adorable ridiculousness. Blaine made little grumbling noises, but obediently drank from the straw when Kurt pressed it to his lips - slowly at first, and then more quickly as his body recognized its dehydration. Kurt had to pull the straw away several times to get Blaine to slow down a little; he didn’t want Blaine to make himself sick.

 

“Better?” he asked as Blaine reached the end of the bottle. Blaine nodded with a sigh, relinquishing the straw to snuggle back into the bed. His gaze was clearer now, more lucid, but his entire body language spoke of exhaustion. A mischievous twinkle appeared in his eyes after a moment.

 

“You know,” he commented, “When I said you couldn’t hurt me, I didn’t actually mean for you to take that as a _challenge_.”

 

Kurt pushed at his boyfriend’s shoulder in mock-reprimand, laugh escaping his lips. “Oh, really? Well, you should be more careful with what you say. Boy’s bound to take advantage otherwise.” Sobering up a little, Kurt reached out to carefully trace the path of a dried tear. “You are okay, though, right? I didn’t go too far?”

 

Blaine rolled his eyes, clearly unimpressed with Kurt’s absolutely reasonable and justified concern. “It’s going to hurt like a bitch for the next few days, but yeah, I’m fine. And you? Did it help?”

 

Kurt’s lips jerked into a smile of their own accord. “It did.”

 

Blaine made an odd little movement at his admission, one Kurt recognized after a second as an aborted attempt at a fist pump. “Knew it.” Then he winced in pain. “Ow.”

 

Kurt felt a pang of guilt. (And an involuntary surge of heat, but Kurt pushed that away.) He’d really laid into Blaine, and hadn’t even given him an orgasm out of the deal. Granted, Blaine hadn’t actually been hard at all, but still. It seemed kind of unfair.

 

“It’s fine,” Blaine said, somehow reading Kurt’s thoughts. He grinned wryly. “If you really want to make it up to me, though, there is one thing you could do.”

 

There was an oddly sly tone to Blaine’s voice that made Kurt instantly suspicious. “And what might that be?”

 

“Well,” Blaine said, carefully shifting himself off Kurt’s arrangement of pillows into a more natural position, wincing as he went, “Since this was like, five times more intense than a _punishment_ spanking, much less a play one, I think it’s only fair that it should count toward future punishments. Since I’ve already been spanked for them.”

 

Blaine sounded quite pleased with himself, and Kurt had to admit that he was a little impressed: it was a pretty clever ploy, particularly since Blaine had clearly come up with it on the spur of the moment.

 

Didn’t mean it was going to work, though.

 

“A for effort,” Kurt said, biting back a grin. “But no.”

 

Blaine pouted, widening his eyes into his most innocently wheedling expression. “It’s only fair, Kurt.”

 

Kurt shook his head, still fighting a smile, and leaned forward to drop a kiss on his scheming sub’s forehead. “Not going to happen.”

 

Blaine opened his mouth, clearly prepared to see this thing through to the very end, and Kurt gently tapped his jaw closed. “Not. Going. To. Happen,” he repeated. “But a very nice try.”

 

Blaine let out a resigned sigh. “Fine,” he said, in an overly-put-upon voice that made Kurt want to giggle. “I guess cuddles could work too.”

 

Kurt smiled and pulled his boyfriend forward into his arms, curling protectively around him. “Good boy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
